Once Upon A Love
by Jordan B. Taylor
Summary: This story is about young love, and how powerful it can be.


Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was 18 months ago. I was 14 years old, fresh into my first year at the private co-ed boarding school my parents shipped me off to. One that I couldn't fully appreciate because I was sent out of spite that Christopher was dealing with Helen, my father and mother, if you'd like to get technical. Their idea was for me to graduate early and possibly come into business with my father if I hadn't figured what I wanted to do with my life. My father, Christopher Michael Otis, and my mother, Helen Selena Otis, were...Quite the couple. They had spent their first 9 years of marriage increasingly happy, blissfully happy. But…They didn't understand each other the way I think a married couple should. My father was attracted to my mother. Helen was poised, came from a good family, smart and beautiful. She also was an art major, and her life was headed toward the right path. There was little she couldn't do, and my father simply adored her vintage fashion and her style to sway a whole room's attention. Many young men felt the same compassion for my mother at that time, and my father was up for a challenge. My father was a year older than my mother. They had attended the same school I am at now. My father was a sophomore, my mother, a freshman.

Christopher was an intelligent, strong, potent young man. He was very talented in all sports he tried and played, and was a charming suitor. His family was wealthy and beloved by all the people they had come to know. Many other girls talked and tried to pursue my father's attention at school until Helen was labeled completely as his girl, and sometimes Helen was so beloved that no one would ever dare pursue Christopher. The other boys couldn't hate him, even if they wanted to. They had all become friends with him, and although they envied him, they got along with him too well to alternate their opinions. Christopher and

Helen were considered a perfect match. They came from wealthy families, were extremely beautiful, excruciatingly intelligent, and were envied by all. Both of them had a very upholding status and were very, very popular.

My parents had dated throughout their high school and college careers and had mended a lifestyle together. Helen had many art galleries and sold many of her paintings and sculptures mostly, and many, many other things. Christopher was a corporate business man who owned some insurance company that had many acclaimed attributes. When Helen was 22 and Christopher was 23, he had proposed to her and had the most marvelous wedding. When Helen was 27, Christopher 28, they got pregnant with me. I was very loved and cherished and my childhood is filled with incredibly fantastic memories. Like elegant but supreme birthday parties with whatever I or Helen could dream of. Our family's parties were always the event to be at, and the one to be remembered. But I'm getting off the point…Back to my reality, where my parents are currently very unhappy with each other.

I guess that when I was around 4 years old that was when their issues had begun. They had just started picking fights of the most idiotic things. Things that are okay when you have 5 different completely trustworthy maids cleaning the mess and at home that were already fixing what you were complaining about. They seemed utterly unhappy and I didn't know who was to blame. Then, when I was 12, they had found out that I had a temporary illness that had me in bed for 2 months and 3 weeks. I barely hungered for food, but I tried to eat what my maids would bring me. The only liquids I could have were water, and orange juice. When Christopher came and left the house, he would only come in to tell me that he loved me and that I would get better soon. Helen could barely come into my room without tears falling from her swelled eyes. She would come into my room and kiss me on my forehead, tell me she loved me and that she was sorry. Then she would leave. At night, when she thought I was sleeping, she would come and sit, and just breathe deeply and watch me lay in bed, from across the room, every night when I was ill.

After three months, the doctor that had been checking on me had claimed that it was three fourths out of my system, and that I would be better in the matter of weeks. And naturally, three weeks later I was fully better. Helen and Christopher had always been cautious about me from then on. The fighting had stopped abruptly…but it didn't last long. In fact, they began fighting again, on my 13th birthday party. I distinctly remember blowing out my birthday candles on my magnificent birthday cake, looking up into the kitchen, seeing my parents fighting through the French doors that were closed but blinds were open enough. When I ran into my house into the hallway leading up to the kitchen I stopped, I heard my parents fighting…about me. They had gone back and forth of how my father though we should have had a private, family only, party on a yacht. My mother's opinion was what had actually happened, a luxurious party at home with beloved family and friends, as always. Then they fought of how I was leaving for my school, and how it should have been more special with our family and closest friends. It seemed that their bickering had gone on for hours. Until they were both in each other's arms hugging tightly and apologizing to each other. Shortly after they agreed to discuss the matter later and had left through the French doors. I ran out a different way, a short cut, and pretended to be happier than I really was. My parents had always talked about how I would love school and meet people that would stay with you forever, but I didn't realize it was so soon. Although most young girls or boys started attending at the age of 15 or 16, once you turned 14, you were eligible to attend.  
So, a week after my birthday, they had taken a day off of work to buy me all I would need for school. I was lucky in the fact that everyone got their own rooms, unless you chose to room with a friend or another student, in which you'd get to have a double instead of a single (Most students that couldn't afford their own room chose that option).

The rooms were very comfortable, and vast, but I adored the architecture and its classical manner. School wasn't bad for me. I loved it more than being in my own household. I just hated the reason for sending me, shipping me off where I only saw them through my laptop screen. They barricaded me out of the house as soon as I was old enough, and they didn't seem to care, because they were too busy fighting.

I know I've talked about my parents for a long while, but it's necessary I think, to know my background. And so, I will begin my story with Adam.


End file.
